


Smexy

by lunarlychallenged



Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: F/M, I feel like a nerd, but they make me laugh, math pick up lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:04:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: If Kevin bothered to ask you out instead of using pick up lines, your answer might change.





	Smexy

You were positive that you knew how to draw a graph of the function f(x) = 1/x.

“Y/N, will you come to the board and draw the function?”

You were not positive you knew how to draw the function.

Math was fine. Plugging and chugging was fine, cool, whatever. Doing math at the front of a room full of intelligent people was less fine, since they would notice a mistake you made before you would. The marker squeaked while you drew, but your hand was steady.

“Oof, check out that ass -”

“Kevin,” Norbury scolded.

“- ymptote! Y/N’s form is perfect.” You could hear the smile in Kevin’s voice, but you could also hear the giggles around the room. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would wipe any embarrassment from your face. If you stood up front too long, it would only seem pathetic. You whirled around, rolling your eyes in a way that was hopefully good-natured, and walked back to your desk.

“Very good,” Norbury called to your back. “Now, let’s talk about finding the limit as the function approaches . . .”

 

 

“It’s for math,” Kevin blurted.

“What is?” When he had appeared at your lunch table, you hadn’t expected that to be the first thing he said. You thought back to math class, but nothing made his words make sense.

“The Mathletes have a meet next week,” he said, holding his hand out like he was calming a horse. “My boys and I will be gone, and I need somebody to text me the notes.”

You bit into the cafeteria pizza, raising your eyebrows at him. “What about Cady Heron? Or you could ask Norbury for the slides.”

“Is that a no?”

“No,” you immediately said. No, if he needed your help, you wouldn’t say no. 

“So, if you don’t mind,” he grinned, “Imma need your significant figures.”

You groaned. “I thought we were having an actual conversation.”

“We were! Are!”

“You wrecked it, G.”

“You’re smiling,” he pointed out.

You tried to push your lips over your teeth, but that fizzy feeling in your chest kept bubbling up. That was funny. Funnier than the asymptote thing. “No, I’m not.”

He handed you his phone, rocking back on his heels. “Hit me up, girl.”

“No.” You typed in your number, dreading and looking forward to his text in equal measure.

 

 

You flipped through a copy of Les Mis for English class, weighing the pros and cons of skipping the bits on Napoleon. Or, to be more realistic, acknowledging the larger number of cons and trying to figure out if you cared.

You didn’t think you cared enough to read them.

You flipped through the book, searching for the end of the section, but a note dropping on your desk distracted you.

'There’s a test in history later. Do you want to borrow my flashcards?'

You shot a questioning glance over your shoulder. Kevin held up a stack of notecards, raising a quizzical eyebrow. 

You bit your lip. He had already taken the test. Kevin wasn’t the type to cheat - he had never needed to be - so he wouldn’t be giving you the answers. You wouldn’t have wanted them, even if they were up for grabs. But, if he was offering his flashcards, they must be useful for the test.

You nodded back at him, and he passed them up to you.

You gave a soft snort when, between a card on icons and a card on the Protestant Reformation, a slip of paper fell out. 

'Can I plug my solution into your equation?'

You pulled out your phone to fire off a reply, fighting the urge to either laugh or boil over.

Y/N: Tacky.

Kevin: But effective.

Y/N: That’s a no from me.

 

 

People slowly filed up the bleachers to take the class picture. You took a spot in the middle, hoping that you would blend in with the rest of the kids. You didn’t want to pose with all of the jocks and preps at the front, but you didn’t want to lurk with the stoners in the back either.

Your eyes closed when a soft punch landed on your shoulder - you instinctively knew who it was. “Please, don’t.”

“Hey, babe.”

“Kevin.”

“What’s your sine?”

You groaned, head dropping.

He hopped from the row behind you to the empty space next to you. “Y/N, how’s it hangin’?”

“Fine,” you huffed. 

“You don’t sound fine,” he said. His shoulders were hunched to keep the fabric of his jacket up near his ears, and the way he peered at you made him look peculiarly bird-like. “You sound kind of pissed.”

An unexpected wave of guilt soaked you. “Yeah, no, not pissed. Tired, maybe, but not pissed.”

“Hmm.” He looked up thoughtfully, tapping his foot in an erratic rhythm. “I need to up my game. I need a better line.”

“That’s definitely not it.” 

“Gimme a second.”

You waited, a smile creeping at the edge of your lips. “You won’t have anything good enough.”

“Are you looking for something smexy -”

“Smexy?”

“Smart and sexy,” he said with a pleased, smug nod. “Smexy. Pure Kevin G, honey. You dig it?”

“No,” you said.

That didn’t stop him from trying his lines. That didn’t stop you from smiling. It was very possible that, in the middle of reacting to something Kevin said, the school picture wound up catching you mid-grin. For once, you might end up looking happy in the yearbook. Kevin would have a field day.

“Freedom at last,” you sighed. “I can go back to class. You’ve used up weeks of this on today.”

“What do you mean, this?”

You waved a hand at him.

“You just gestured at all of me,” he said, aghast.

You waved again.

“I’ve used up weeks of me on one day?” He was grinning. “I didn’t know there was a limit. The limit does not exist.”

“I can only handle so much,” you pleaded, that smile still firmly in place. “You’ll be the actual death of me.”

“One more,” he said. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “I swear, it’s a good one. You’ll love it.”

You sighed. “Hit me.”

“Kinky.” When you rolled your eyes, he was quick to assure you that it wasn’t the line. “No, wait. Okay. Can you integrate my natural log?”

You snorted. “God, Kevin.”

“They’re funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

“If I laugh, it’ll only encourage you,” you said. Granted, the fact that you were breathing seemed like encouragement enough to him, but you still didn’t want to seem too eager.

His smile went a little crooked, a little serious, and you sobered. “Y/N, if you told me to stop - really stop, not in a ‘what a dumb pun’ way - I would. You know that, right?”

You considered. Maybe you had, deep down. That would explain why your heart sank when he asked Cady Heron to join the Mathletes instead of you; why you texted him back without fail; why sometimes the two of you had real conversations.

“Yeah,” you finally said. “Yeah, I know.”

“And?”

You gave a sarcastic laugh. Sarcastic, but you saw the gears turning while he thought through the conversation.

“I’m feeling very encouraged, Y/N,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I have to go to class,” you mumbled. You hopped down the steps, ignoring the buzz in your pocket that was, undoubtedly, something flirty from Kevin. Something that, indubitably, you would respond to in kind. Knowing the truth of it wasn’t even embarrassing anymore. He was the nerdiest kid, but that kind of did it for you.

 

 

“Tyler,” you groaned while you shouldered your backpack. “Thirty problems is too many. It’s too hard. I’ll be doing them all night.”

He started to respond, but before he could, Kevin through an arm over his broad shoulders. “Y/N, babe, you don’t need to use math problems as a euphemism for my name. Tyler knows what we’ll be up to tonight.”

You couldn’t help it; you smiled. Kevin was always twisting things you said, but you seldom said things so easy to twist. He smiled back, arm dropping from Tyler’s shoulder to mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well,” you said in a slow, sweet voice. “It’s a shame I’ll never finish.”

Tyler gave a bark of laughter, and Kevin’s jaw dropped. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, “that was way more than a flesh wound.”

You grinned, unrepentant. “Chicken.”

“One of these days, you’ll give in to my ample charms,” he said earnestly. “We’re endgame.”

“One of these days, you’ll actually ask me out,” you replied.

His eyebrows shot up. “I’ve asked you out a million times.”

“No.” You looked at Tyler for support, and his brow furrowed.

“Kev, I think she’s right.” He gave a bewildered laugh, like this was a twist ending he hadn’t expected. “You’ve never actually asked her out. You’re all talk.”

Before Kevin had a chance to say something, or maybe ask you something, you flicked a wave over your shoulder and left. 

Too hard. You’d do them all night. You seriously walked right into that one.

 

 

In preparation for a test, Norbury had the class rotating through stations, each one with different types of practice problems. You ended up going through the stations with the Mathletes, effectively giving you the best study partners you could ask for. Every subject was covered, every problem was finished, and the class ended with you feeling almost confident about the upcoming test.

“For once,” you teased Kevin, “I’m leaving your company satisfied.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Nope. We should date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “No math jokes?”

“I’m serious.” Kevin shuffled his weight from one foot to another, eager and nervous all at once. “We should go out, all jokes aside.”

“I should ask you out, 'cause you can't differentiate,” you said.

“Y/N, that isn’t an answer.”

You grinned. “Wanna couple our equations tonight?”

He looked ready to laugh, but he scowled while he smacked you with his bag. “Y/N, the one time I try to talk to you without math jokes -”

“I sure hope you’re good at algebra,” you crooned, “because you have to replace my X without knowing Y.”

“You Googled these!”

“Kevin,” you said. You grabbed his hand and wound your fingers between his. “Isn’t it annoying when somebody is to busy joking to get things started?”

He groaned. “Imma date you so hard.”

“Good.” You pulled him out into the hall, keeping hold on him. “Because I want to work on you all night.”

He laughed, and you were encouraged.


End file.
